


Cheerleader Draco and the Evil Splinter

by Biza



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Crossdressing, Graphic Sex, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 19:41:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9673187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biza/pseuds/Biza
Summary: Harry’s a leg man and Draco’s got theories and plans.





	

“I don’t understand how you expect me to be able to save your arse.”

“You’re the Chosen One. You can make them believe anything.”

Harry scowled at Draco, wondering how he could possibly say that with a straight face. “I’m not a bloody magician.”

“You’re a wizard. That’s a hundred times better than some stupid Muggle magician.”

“You actually know what a magician is?” Harry’s curiosity overrode his irritation.

“I know lots of things.” Predictably, Draco’s chin tilted upwards at a haughty angle. His next statement, however, Harry couldn’t have predicted if his life had depended on it. “I know what cheerleaders are, too.”

“Huh?”

“Cheerleaders, Potter. You know. Short skirts? Ridiculous chants?”

“Like ‘Weasley is our King’?”

Draco’s eyes narrowed and Harry was happy again – until Draco’s annoyance inexplicably morphed into another smirk.

“Yes, exactly like that,” Draco drawled. “You could say I have experience being a cheerleader.”

Harry burst out laughing. The conversation was making absolutely no bloody sense, but it was hilarious. Draco crossed his arms over his chest and glared as he waited for Harry to calm down.

“Finished?”

Nodding, Harry took off his glasses to wipe the tears away. “You’re funny, Malfoy.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

“Er, what were you trying to be, then?” Harry asked, slipping his glasses back on. “You can’t tell me you actually want to be a cheerleader.”

“Not exactly,” Draco muttered. He took a deep breath. “If you can get the Order to accept me, I’m offering to be your personal cheerleader for one week.”

Harry sputtered in an attempt to contain his laughter, but it bubbled forth anyway, completely out of his control. It took him several minutes to notice that Draco wasn’t laughing with him.

“You’re not serious?”

“Of course I’m bloody serious,” Draco snapped.

“Er, Malfoy.” It was tempting to take advantage, but it wasn’t in Harry’s nature. Not for something this serious. “You don’t have to humiliate yourself for me to help.”

“I’m just ensuring that you’ve got enough motivation to do your best.”

~*~*~*~

Ruefully, Harry admitted to himself that Draco had been right. Several times he’d wanted to simply give up, but he only had to imagine Draco’s personal humiliation and he would leap back into the fight. It wasn’t like Draco would be humiliating himself in front of everyone, only Harry, so Harry had decided it would be all right.

Ron and Hermione had been aware that Draco had been hiding out at Grimmauld Place for months, but even they were surprised at Harry’s vehement defence of the ferret, as Ron was still fond of calling him. They did back Harry, however, and eventually the members of the Order agreed to give Draco a second chance instead of hauling him straight to Azkaban.

It took a lot more fast talking before anyone, Mrs. Weasley in particular, would allow Harry to return to Grimmauld Place with Draco. No one appreciated that they’d already been living there, alone, for months, or the fact that it had been Snape who had set them up together in the first place.

~*~*~*~

“I can’t believe you just endured all that for Malfoy,” Ron said in disgust, flopping down at the kitchen table of Grimmauld Place.

“It was the right thing to do,” Hermione said, but she sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as Ron.

Harry shrugged, but sent a smug grin in Draco’s direction. For once, he was actually looking forward to the next week alone with Draco. Ron and Hermione were off to visit with her parents, Snape rarely put in an appearance, and no one else could even get past the wards. Barring any emergencies, it would be fun to taunt Draco all week.

It would make a nice change, Harry reflected, because Draco still took every opportunity to taunt and criticize him.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Hermione asked, eyeing Draco’s impassiveness and Harry’s wide grin suspiciously.

“Don’t worry, Hermione. I can handle Malfoy.”

He was put out when both of his best friends looked at him dubiously, while the bloody smirk returned to Draco’s features.

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted.

~*~*~*~

Harry could only stare, wide-eyed, at the spectacle before him. The deal had been for Draco to be his personal cheerleader, but he’d not expected Draco to actually dress the part – in girls’ clothes.

Draco cocked his hip and leaned against the kitchen counter while Harry attempted to comprehend what he was seeing.

Slytherin colours, green and shimmery grey. He noticed and understood that immediately. Long-sleeved grey jumper with emerald green trim. Instead of a university or team embroidered on the front, however, there was a large HP in lightening bolt shaped letters.

The short, pleated skirt was green, but the grey shimmered in the pleats every time Draco moved. It drew even more attention to the fact that the skirt only skimmed the top of his thighs. If that wasn’t distracting enough, Harry suddenly realized that Draco had long, long legs. Had they always been that long? Harry knew Draco was tall, but he’d not realized he was _that_ tall. On his feet were delicate-looking grey ankle socks – with the green trim, of course – and plain white trainers.

Even more mysterious than the long legs was the fact that Draco still managed to look arrogant wearing the kit. And holding pom poms – bright green and silver. Very sparkly and pretty and so very _not_ Draco.

“Are you ready for your cheer?”

Harry nodded dumbly. Surely the situation couldn’t get any more surreal, right?

“Harry Potter,  
He’s my man.  
If he can’t do it,  
No one can.  
Gooooo, Potter!”

Harry blinked. Again. Was Draco wearing green knickers? He couldn’t get past that thought to even think about the fact that Draco was jumping around and kicking and cheering ridiculous cheerleader chants and waving his sparkly pom poms about.

He startled when Draco tossed the pom poms onto the table and sat down across from him.

“That’s all the cheering you get this early in the morning,” Draco declared. “Have you made any coffee?”

Working on automatic, Harry got up and poured them both coffee before he started cooking some breakfast. He needed time to think. Sneaking a sidelong glance at Draco, he had the feeling extra time wasn’t going to help.

Draco as a cheerleader was supposed to be funny, not . . . not . . . sexy, his mind supplied helpfully.

“No!”

“No, what?” Draco asked, eyebrow arched and looking as irritating as he always did – from the neck up.

“Er, I, um, no, there’s no breakfast yet.”

“I don’t recall asking.”

“My stomach was grumbling and I was just answering it.”

The eyebrow arched a little higher and Harry turned away, blushing brightly and cursing himself for being a complete idiot. Draco was the one who was supposed to be feeling uncomfortable, but he appeared to be perfectly at ease.

It wasn’t until he’d plonked some plates on the table with scrambled eggs and toast that he felt calm enough to ask some of the many questions circling endlessly in his head. He gestured to Draco’s jumper with his fork, attempting to feign nonchalance.

“So. Where’d you get that?”

“Do you like it?” Draco preened, puffing out his chest and showing off the HP.

“Er . . .” If the move had been made by a girl, it would’ve accented her breasts. When Draco did it, it just seemed to highlight the fact that he was definitely male, despite the unusual garb. The jumper looked to be quite soft, Harry noted absently, having the urge to touch it to be sure.

“It’s possible to owl order most anything,” Draco said blithely, ignoring Harry’s incoherency. “There’s a brilliant costume shop in Wiltshire that can come up with some amazing kits, and they’re quite discreet.”

He fingered the design on the front. “They were even able to add this, just from a little sketch I made.”

“It’s my initials,” Harry pointed out, much to Draco’s obvious amusement.

“I thought even you might be able to recognize that,” Draco said. “CO might’ve been too obscure for you.”

Harry allowed himself to be led into the trap. “CO?”

“Chosen One, of course.”

“Ah.” He rubbed his forehead absently. “It wouldn’t have worked as well with the lightening bolts.”

“I quite agree. This turned out nicely.”

Harry took a few bites of his eggs before washing them down with some juice before speaking again.

“You, uh, know that you’re wearing a skirt?”

“It’s what all cheerleaders wear.”

“I don’t think male cheerleaders wear them. They wear trousers.”

“Why should girls get all the exposure?”

“Um . . .” Harry had no idea, so he changed the subject.

“How did you learn about cheerleaders? We don’t have them for Quidditch.”

“I found a copy of Blaise’s _Wizard’s Wankfest_.”

Harry’s eyes grew wide. “The one with all the Muggle uniforms? Cheerleaders and maids and magician’s assistants and soldiers and . . .”

“Yes, that’s the one. I reckon it went around all the boys’ dorms.”

“Er, yeah.”

“Did you wank over the cheerleader pictures?”

“What?! Malfoy, don’t you think that’s a little personal?”

“So? Did you?”

“Did _you_?” Harry shot back in embarrassment.

“A couple times, but they really didn’t do much for me.”

“They didn’t?” Maybe he wasn’t the only one to find it bewildering? Ron and Seamus, and even Neville and Dean, had raved over the magazine, and it had been the favourite wank material in the dorm for weeks. Harry hadn’t been able to muster much enthusiasm for the scantily clad girls, and he’d eventually come to the glum conclusion that he fancied blokes rather than birds.

“I’m partial to blokes.” Draco’s casual attitude turned sly. “I hear you are, too.”

Harry wasn’t sure how to respond to either comment. “You . . . how . . . where did you hear that?”

Draco plucked a piece of lint from his jumper. “I overheard Granger and Weasley discussing your non-existent love life.”

“I . . . uh . . . wait! Ron and Hermione _know_?”

“That you’re gay? Yes. Apparently they figured it out some time last year. Weasley was rather disappointed that you only showed interest in the cheerleaders and finally conceded that Granger was right.”

“They have legs,” Harry murmured absently, his mind spinning and missing Draco’s amused smirk. He hadn’t told anyone, not even Ron and Hermione. It was just another thing that would make him different and he didn’t want to deal with it. But, Draco was the same?

“You have a thing for legs, Potter?”

“I . . . what?” Harry blinked at Draco in confusion. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. “You’re a pouf?”

“Not the term I would’ve used, but yes. I trust that we can keep each other’s secrets?”

Harry was quick to agree, not wanting anyone to find out that he lusted after boys. Though, apparently his best friends had known before him, so it was possible other people knew as well.

“I think I need to go lie down.” This was too disturbing to process all at once.

~*~*~*~

“Er, Malfoy?”

“Hmmm?”

“Did you know that you have no hair on your legs?”

Draco looked up from the book he was reading. “I’ve got no hair on my body, except on my head.”

“You don’t?”

“No, the hair didn’t go well with the uniform. Quite tacky.”

Harry sank a little deeper into the cushions of his armchair, but continued to eye Draco’s legs stretched out on the sofa. He’d thought he’d got a grip on himself, literally as well as figuratively, while he’d spent a few hours hiding out in his room. Two minutes in Draco’s presence and he was swiftly losing any hope that he’d be able to handle this situation.

“Wait. Did you say you have _no_ hair?” Harry asked, unconsciously scratching at his chest. He didn’t have much chest hair, maybe, but he was quite proud of what he did have. He couldn’t imagine just getting rid of it, now that he’d finally got some.

“I have no hair below my neck,” Draco said, speaking slowly so Harry could understand. Harry didn’t even notice, because another thought had suddenly pierced his brain.

“You shaved your pubic hair?!”

“No!” Draco recoiled. “I wouldn’t take a razor to my bits!”

Harry sighed in relief.

“I used potions to dissolve the hair. Much safer and far more efficient.”

“Oh.” Once again, Harry was at a complete loss as to how he should respond. Draco didn’t seem to mind as he warmed to his topic.

“There are several depilatory potions available. Some are specifically made for the genital areas, protecting the skin while removing the unwanted hair.”

“Why wouldn’t you want it?” Harry dared to ask.

“I’ve already told you, extra hair is quite tacky when you’re wearing something like this.”

“But that’s your legs.”

He’d never thought that he was _proud_ of his pubic hair, but he had the sudden urge to protect it.

“You can’t have unsightly hair poking out of your knickers.”

Harry was amazed that Draco could say that and make it sound perfectly reasonable. As curious as he was about the knickers, he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

“So, uh, the potions don’t hurt?”

“I know you’re aware of the damage razors can do to your skin,” Draco said, pointedly looking at Harry’s stubble.

“Er.” Harry rubbed his jaw self-consciously. He didn’t like shaving and Draco was always going on about how scraggly it made him look, though Draco hadn’t been quite as condescending as of late.

“The potions moisturize the skin, much like a lotion, leaving it smooth and silky soft.”

“It doesn’t burn?”

“Not at all,” Draco said. He carried on about the benefits of potions over razors, but Harry didn’t catch most of it. He was trying to decide whether Draco sounded like a girl, or simply smart.

~*~*~*~

If Harry had thought seeing Draco in a cheerleading kit was shocking, he was completely stunned to see Draco wearing a cheerleading kit in Gryffindor colours.

“I thought you might approve,” Draco said dryly as he sat down at the table for breakfast. He poured the coffee, since Harry was frozen in place.

Ten minutes later, Draco waved his hand in front of Harry’s face. “I’m hungry.”

Fixing breakfast gave him something to focus on besides Draco, so he leaped at the opportunity, deciding against being upset about Draco manipulating him into preparing more of their meals.

“Why do you have more than one?”

“I can’t very well wear the same clothing every day,” Draco said. “I bought several jumpers and skirts in both Slytherin and Gryffindor colours. I look much better in Slytherin colours, of course, but since this is for your benefit . . .”

His voice trailed off as Harry started choking.

“All right?”

Harry waved his arm dismissively as he worked to catch his breath. He’d somehow forgotten this was for his _benefit_ , not a means of torture.

~*~*~*~

“I don’t understand it, really,” Draco said. “When the weather is warmer, they’ll wear sleeveless shirts, and when it’s colder, they’ll wear the long sleeved jumpers, like this one.” He plucked at his sleeve. “But no matter what the weather’s like, they always wear the short skirts. Don’t their legs get cold?”

Like most occasions when Draco started discussing his cheerleader and body hygiene philosophy, Harry could only gape at him in disbelief. He was rather proud of himself for not peeking under the table, though, when Draco mentioned legs.

“Are your legs cold right now?” he managed to ask.

“No, not really,” Draco admitted. He turned to the side and propped one leg up on the table for Harry to see. “No goose bumps, which is good, because they’re really unattractive.”

Harry couldn’t see a single, solitary unattractive goose bump daring to mar the smooth porcelain skin. He dragged his eyes back up to Draco’s face, not that Draco had appeared to notice his staring. Well, he had invited Harry to stare, after all, so he probably would’ve noticed if Harry _hadn’t_ looked. With an effort, Harry tuned back in to what Draco was saying.

“It’s warm in the house, so it’s really quite comfortable. It can be a bit of a shock when I sit down on a cold chair, of course.”

“But your –” Harry snapped his mouth shut, but it was too late.

“But I sit on my arse, I know. The skirt is so short, you see, so it rides up when I sit down and the back of my thighs are on the chair. The leather sofa up in the drawing room is an absolute nightmare if I dare to sit on it before the fire warms up the room. I’m afraid I do break out in unsightly goose bumps then.”

Harry’s eyes drifted back down as he imagined the back of Draco’s thighs being cold and covered in goose bumps. He couldn’t figure out what was so unattractive about them. It just meant that you had to rub the skin to warm it up, right? That’s what he always did, but then he was imagining his hands rubbing the back of Draco’s thighs. He swallowed hard, in absolutely no danger of breaking out in unsightly goose bumps.

“I’ll just go start a fire, yeah?”

He escaped up the stairs, resigning himself to being overly warm. It wouldn’t do for Draco’s thighs to need rubbed. By anyone. He wasn’t sure he could stand it.

~*~*~*~

“For a cheerleader, you don’t do very much cheering.”

“Go, Potter. Go, Potter. Go, go, Potter.”

Harry rolled his eyes at the droll, uninspired chant, unaccountably disappointed. He’d thought Draco was more creative.

“It’s all so tedious,” Draco said. “I bought a book of cheers, but they’re mostly boring and they make me sound stupid.”

“They make you sound blond,” Harry muttered under his breath. He smiled innocently when Draco glared at him suspiciously.

“I don’t think I do cheerful very well.”

Harry feigned shock, laughing when he earned a scowl from Draco this time.

~*~*~*~

“Do you realize how flexible cheerleaders have to be? I can’t do a lot of their moves.”

“You were doing all right with those, uh, kicks.”

“You just like those because they lift up my skirt and show my spankies.”

“Your _what_?!”

“My spankies,” Draco repeated with a wide roll of his eyes.

Harry was too busy picturing bright pink handprints on Draco’s pale arse to notice Draco’s dry amusement.

“It’s knickers for cheerleaders. They’re made to stay in place when the cheerleader is bouncing around. I’d thought surely they’d bind my balls so tight I wouldn’t be able to see straight, but they’re surprisingly quite comfortable. They’re made out of some kind of stretchy, silky material and it feels good.”

Harry was beyond the capability of speech when Draco stood and lifted his skirt to show off his spankies – which showed off his assets quite well indeed. He turned and ran a finger underneath the bit of elastic along the edge, snapping it back to its original position.

“See, it stays in place.”

“Uh huh.” Harry nodded dumbly.

Later, he would wonder if this was what had happened to Crabbe and Goyle; years of exposure to Draco’s uniqueness had left them useless. Draco had stunned them into utter stupidity.

~*~*~*~

Draco rolled his hips, keeping a close eye on Harry. He almost felt sorry for him, considering Harry was currently looking like an owl again, wide green eyes blinking slowly. He was corrupting the poor boy, but he was going to be eighteen soon and _someone_ had to corrupt him. It wouldn’t do for Harry to die a virgin, which was a very real possibility. So, he was just doing his duty, Draco told himself, as he jumped spread eagle and Harry’s eyes goggled even wider.

The week was almost up and Harry still wasn’t doing a bloody thing besides watching, though, and that was _not_ the goal. He’d thought dressing as a cheerleader and doing a few cheers would be drastic enough, but apparently nothing was too extreme when it came to Harry Potter.

Draco sat at the table and pretended to read a book during the thirty minutes it took Harry to regain some sense of control and fix sandwiches for lunch. At least he’d got smart and manipulated their lunch into an earlier time; otherwise he’d starve if he had to keep waiting for Harry to pull himself back together.

As he waited, he began thinking up some supplementary plans to get Harry to finally act.

~*~*~*~

Thinking it must be about time for dinner, Harry wandered down to the kitchen – and tripped over his own feet when he caught sight of the display on the table.

“How are you going to help me if you can’t even walk?”

Harry goggled at Draco, who was bent over the table with his skirt flipped up and his arse poking out. In bright red knickers. He thought it was rather fortunate that he’d tripped, because the view from the floor was absolutely brilliant. Draco’s legs were spread just wide enough to see the nice bulge . . .

“Potter!”

“Huh?”

“I need you to help me!”

Considering that Draco sounded extremely aggravated, Harry made a huge effort to focus, but it was difficult when he was distracted by the view and the fantasies that popped into his head about how he’d like to help Draco out of those knickers and replace them with a few spanks before shoving his . . . 

“Potter!”

“What?!”

Draco growled. “I’ve got a splinter in my arse from these bloody chairs and I can’t get it out. Help. Me.”

“You want me to touch your arse?” Harry squeaked the question out even as his eyes darted back to stare at the arse in question. He didn’t see any splinters.

“I don’t care what you touch, just get it out!”

“I’m not –”

“Now!”

Harry swallowed heavily, thinking this would be a good time to start laughing at Draco’s predicament. And he was such a wimp, whinging about a bloody splinter. Funny. Ha, ha. All he needed to do was laugh.

He whimpered instead. “I can’t.”

“You’re supposed to save people, so just do it already.”

That somehow pierced Harry’s lust-daze. “You want me to save you from the evil splinters of the world?”

“Yes!”

The laughter Harry had wanted to conjure just a minute before finally burst forth. The entire situation was simply too ridiculous not to laugh.

“Potter!”

“Quit yelling at me,” Harry said, still sniggering as he crawled over to Draco. “I’ll save you from the evil splinter.”

The laughter died away, however, as soon as he was face to . . . arse. He wanted so badly to touch and it was nerve-wracking that he actually had permission, but not in the way that he wanted.

“Do you see it?”

_See what?_ “Oh, uh, no.” He’d already forgotten about the evil splinter.

Draco shifted on the table to reach back, and Harry suddenly thought he understood how Draco had actually ended up in this position. He hadn’t really believed that it was an open invitation, but it would’ve been nice.

“It’s right there,” Draco said, poking at the centre of his left arse cheek. He twisted to bring down his other hand, resting his weight on his chest. “I feel something here, too,” he said, poking at the opposite cheek.

The hands were distracting. Harry wet his lips before he could tell Draco to move them out of the way, then peered at the spots indicated. Smooth, unmarred fabric over taut muscles. No signs of splinters.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Then look closer, you git!”

“Shut up, Malfoy. I’m doing you a favour, remember?”

Draco’s voice changed to a whimper. “It hurts.”

Harry didn’t know if he wanted to hug Draco, smack him or skip all that and just fuck him. Maybe if he shoved his dick in, it would pop the splinters out. He groaned, wondering if this incident was going to get him sent to St. Mungo’s for a mental evaluation.

“What are you doing back there?”

“Nothing,” Harry said quickly. “I just don’t see anything.”

“I bloody knew you were going to make me take off the knickers,” Draco muttered as he stood up.

“What? No!”

“I know,” Draco snapped as if he hadn’t heard Harry’s protests. “You’re not going to be able to find the splinter if the knickers are in the way, but I’d hoped . . .” His voice trailed off as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of the red spankies and shoved them down.

Harry fell back onto his own arse as Draco toed off his trainers and kicked the knickers and shoes to the side. The short little skirt didn’t cover much. Then it wasn’t covering anything as Draco flipped it back up and bent over the end of the table again.

Draco wriggled his arse impatiently. “Do you see anything?”

“Uh huh.” It was _all_ on display.

“You found it?”

_Found what?_ Splinter. Right. “Uh, no. It just looks a little red, maybe.” More like a nice pink flush, but close enough.

“It’s the splinter! Get it out!”

“I can’t touch it!”

“Why not?”

“Er . . .”

“Get up off your arse and get this splinter out!”

“Bossy little fucker,” Harry muttered under his breath, even as he got back up onto his knees. Though he didn’t really mind, because it was much easier to focus when Draco was yelling and being an utter prick. It gave him the courage to edge a little closer and actually look for the bloody splinter. Unfortunately, he didn’t see anything but pale flesh tinged a light pink. He decided he kind of liked that colour.

“I don’t see it, Malfoy.”

“Then look closer. I can feel it!”

If he got any closer he was going to be kissing Draco’s arse. He blinked. Somehow, that didn’t sound as bad as it used to. Leaning in just a bit further, he took a deep breath to steady himself . . . and discovered Draco smelled good. Soapy and musky and very, very male.

Draco shifted his hips restlessly, but he didn’t yell this time. Harry slowly raised his hand and ran the tip of his finger down Draco’s left cheek. 

“Good idea,” Draco said, sounding rather breathless. “Maybe you’ll be able to feel it.”

Splinter. Right. He gave himself a mental shake and began a real search for the little offender. It needed to be found as soon as possible so he could leave and have a nice, long wank. Either that, or he was going to cream his trousers right here and now and that would be bad, though he was having trouble remembering exactly _why_ that would be a bad thing.

He ran his fingertips lightly over the skin – just like he would when he got splinters in his hands – but it felt so incredibly different. He was fondling Draco Malfoy’s arse and the very thought of it made him want to . . .

“I’m never going to find it if you don’t quit moving.”

“You have to find it.”

“Then quit squirming.” Without thinking, he swatted Draco’s right cheek. 

Draco’s sharp inhale turned into a whimper and Harry stared at the bright pink handprint he’d left. It took him a minute to realize that Draco hadn’t yelled at him for it and was, in fact, squirming again as if asking for Harry to give him another smack. Harry tested the theory and watched in awe as Draco twitched helplessly but didn’t otherwise move. Harry rubbed lightly over the smooth, pink flesh.

“You don’t have any splinters, do you?”

Nothing. Draco was completely silent. Did that mean Draco wanted Harry to . . .?

“What exactly do you want, Malfoy?”

Draco’s only response was to spread his legs wide.

“Bloody buggering hell,” Harry whispered. He’d just been given an open invitation. To hell with that, he’d actually been manipulated into _accepting_ the invitation. The entire situation was ridiculous, but that shouldn’t surprise him when it involved Draco’s wild ideas.

The skirt had fallen when Draco moved and Harry ran his hands up the back of Draco’s thighs and pushed it out of the way again. He didn’t know if he should admit that he liked the skirts. They showed off Draco’s long legs and they teased unmercifully.

All the teasing had led to this, and Harry began to wonder if this was what Draco had intended all along. It seemed like an odd way to seduce someone, but damned if Harry could think of a better way.

Sliding his hands back down, he ghosted them lightly over Draco’s inner thighs before moving up to palm Draco’s sac. He’d never touched anyone like this before and he was thrilled with the hitch in Draco’s breathing. A little higher and he was able to fist Draco’s cock, which was hot and heavy in his hand. Smooth and different and yet the same as his own.

The sounds Draco was making indicated that he approved, but Harry really wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. He just knew that he wanted to touch, everywhere, and Draco wasn’t protesting. He gave a couple of experimental tugs, but the position he was in was not meant for wanking.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Harry startled at the sound of Draco’s breathy voice, and he dropped his hands. Much as he wanted it, he wasn’t prepared for fucking. Splinters he could handle; fucking was beyond his abilities.

“I don’t –”

“Please don’t chicken out now,” Draco pleaded.

“I’m not scared,” Harry protested.

Draco lifted his head and looked at Harry over his shoulder. Harry couldn’t hold the gaze and his eyes slid to the floor. Okay, he was terrified he was going to somehow screw up, but it wasn’t fair that Draco should know that.

“I don’t know what to do,” he mumbled.

“I’ve already . . . you just have to stick your dick in.”

Draco looked slightly embarrassed and disgruntled and Harry didn’t dare ask what Draco had already done.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this.” Harry’s cock throbbed in his trousers in protest.

A hint of Draco’s condescending sneer made an appearance. “Don’t tell me that you’re waiting for true love.”

Harry blinked. “Er, no.” The thought hadn’t even occurred to him. He’d just never had an opportunity to lose his virginity before.

“Then what are you waiting for? Gods, Potter, you can’t make me wait any longer. I _know_ you want this as badly as I do.”

“But I don’t know what I’m doing!”

Draco’s impatient sigh heaved him off the table and he turned and kneeled in front of Harry.

“This is probably a bit fast for a Gryffindor, yeah?”

“Fast is good,” Harry said, licking his lips. “I just feel like I’ve skipped a couple steps. Or a couple dozen steps. Or, yeah.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Draco didn’t wait for an answer, taking the kiss that he’d asked for. With Draco’s tongue in his mouth, Harry didn’t particularly care. Kissing was brilliant. He was so caught up in the kissing that he didn’t realize he was being manoeuvred onto his back until Draco was lying on top of him and rolling his hips. His attempts to thrust upwards didn’t work well, but they sparked amazing sensations through his groin.

“Please,” he whimpered against Draco’s lips, not sure what he was pleading for but knowing he needed more than what he was getting. With jerky, impatient movements, Draco worked to quickly relieve Harry of his clothing. Harry helped by pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside.

He didn’t know when the sexual energy had picked up in the room, but it was reaching unbearable levels. Being naked in front of Draco was suddenly the best thing in the world instead of embarrassing and he wanted Draco naked too, so he yanked Draco’s jumper up his chest and sent his blond hair into disarray when he pulled it off.

Draco didn’t bother taking the time to remove the skirt, simply straddling Harry’s naked body and they were skin against skin and it was heat and they were kissing again and it was amazing. Draco was twisting and reaching behind himself and Harry couldn’t see what he was doing but he didn’t care.

His eyes widened in shock when Draco pulled up onto his knees and stared down at Harry, dishevelled and utterly sexy. But the astonishing thing was feeling Draco sliding down his cock, encasing Harry in tight, wet, heat.

This was . . . oh, Merlin . . . he’d never felt . . . he was going to come.

“Don’t you dare come yet,” Draco warned, tugging rather harshly on Harry’s balls. Harry winced, but it had done the trick and taken the edge off. Focusing on Draco, he became fascinated by his expression. Draco’s eyes were squeezed tightly shut and he was concentrating so hard that he looked to be in pain.

“Does it hurt?” Harry whispered.

Draco shook his head, but his expression didn’t change and Harry was sure he was lying. It simply had to hurt, considering Harry’s cock was going up his arse, but Harry was having trouble imagining it because it felt absolutely brilliant to him. Thinking about his own cock made him realize that Draco’s was being neglected.

He inched his hands towards the hem of the skirt as Draco did a little wriggle that slid Harry’s cock deeper inside.

“Can I touch you?”

Draco’s breathing was harsh and heavy, but he gave Harry a jerky nod. He groaned loudly as Harry tentatively began to fist him. Encouraged, Harry lifted his head to see better and shuddered at what he saw. Draco’s hard prick poking out of the folds of bright red fabric. He dropped his head back to the hard floor, wishing for a bloody pillow.

Everything they were doing was overwhelming and Draco’s arse was pressing against his balls and then they were kissing again and Harry latched onto Draco’s mouth eagerly. Draco started moving and Harry realized that it was all going to be over rather quickly, despite Draco’s efforts.

He tilted his head away from the kisses to concentrate on _not coming_ , but it didn’t help when Draco simply latched onto his neck instead.

“Stop. I can’t. I’m going to come.”

“Do it,” Draco gasped, choosing to move faster instead of stopping.

Harry’s hand was trapped between their stomachs with Draco’s cock rubbing back and forth against his palm and it was slick with pre-come and Draco’s arse tightened even more around Harry’s prick and his world exploded with the overload of sensations. He was only vaguely aware when he felt Draco still and shoot his own load between their bodies.

Draco rolled off to the side and, as they lay there, Harry began to feel embarrassed and a little stupid. He’d just lost his virginity on the bloody kitchen floor. Nevermind that it had been brilliant, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do now. Was there any chance they could do it again?

He tilted his head to look at Draco and couldn’t help but start sniggering at the absurdity of the situation. Wearing a short skirt and ankle socks, Draco looked utterly debauched and satisfied.

“Only you could come up with such strange ideas to seduce someone.”

Draco looked proud rather than insulted. “Thanks.”

Laughing, Harry got up and pulled Draco to his feet. “C’mon. Let’s go find a bed and see if you’ve got any more splinters.”

~~Finite~~


End file.
